


Enjoy the Silence

by joie_siren



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Heart-to-Heart, Hurt, M/M, Set after 3x15, but cute and hopeful ending, cyrus is going through a rough time, he needs this, i love bubbe rose with all my heart, my favorite boys talk, this kinda sad, tw: grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 17:31:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19773052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joie_siren/pseuds/joie_siren
Summary: After the embarrassing run in with TJ's mother, Cyrus comes home to reflect on his life-- and how it feels like it's crumbling apart. Dealing with residual pain following his grandmother's death and the grief of the last few weeks, he goes to his roof to find a sense of solace.





	Enjoy the Silence

**Author's Note:**

> this is a little idea that was inspired by the new 'andi's texts'. this kinda (?) follows canon, but this is definitely more sappy than Disney would allow (and a little self indulgent, perhaps). Anyway, let the gays be sappy, Disney! Set in between the gap of 3x15 and 3x18. Hope you enjoy.

The moonlight that streams through Cyrus’ window cast shadows on the side of the boy’s face, whose sat on the floor of his bedroom, knees pulled up to his chest, not realizing that the sun had set over an hour ago. He has his phone in hand, earbuds in, desperately switching between his Spotify playlists, failing to find a song that didn’t sound jarring and just plain wrong in his ears. He hates when he got like this; the type of restless that makes all music sound simultaneously tired and foreign. For a moment he considers texting the groupchat to see if anyone could facetime, but he knows his attempts would be fruitless, with Andi wrapped up with the anguish of Bex and Bowie’s on-and-off again engagement, and Buffy’s tireless planning as captain of the girl’s basketball team. Not to mention, Jonah’s complete aversion to communicating over the phone in any kind of fashion. So no, he decides against it. 

He gives up with his music browsing and shrugs off his earbuds, leaning his head on the wall behind him with a deep sigh. There’s a still silence in the room that causes his ears to ring and a fog between his eyes to settle. He can’t even cry. All he feels is profoundly lonely and cold. So cold. It sits in his stomach like a large block of ice, and he is transported to the night he found out that Bubbe Rose passed away. 

He needs to escape the silence and the cold. Quietly, he shuffles over to his closet and pulls out his favorite hoodie, which began its life as TJ’s but became Cyrus’ property on a day they had been hanging out and he forgot to check the weather forecast prior, ending up caught in a rainstorm in only a t-shirt. It’s a faded shade of forest green, frayed and tattered at the seams, but it’s warm and it still smells faintly of its past owner. He creeps towards his window sill, careful not to wake his father and step mom who are no doubt passed out on the living room couch together, patient files and empty mugs sprawled haphazardly on their coffee table. He lifts the glass pane, and hoists himself out the window and onto the ledge that leads to the roof of the house. 

He’s taken this path a thousand times before. Well, not so much in recent times, as it’s his designated escape from reality, second to the swings. He’s found himself more at the swings in the past few months, often with TJ and feeling a lot less detached and rather more dizzy with life. Before last week, it seemed like the rooftop was no longer needed. That was, until his safest place became a reminder of how utterly cold his existence felt when he found Kira and TJ at the swings together. 

He perches himself on the highest point of the roof, knees pulled into his chest once again as the night breeze rushes through his hair, swirling in his ears and drowning out the deafening quiet. He sighs in relief, his mind clearing enough to make sense of all his thoughts. Then he remembers. 

_God, I’m so stupid._ What was he thinking, going to TJ’s house uninvited and making a complete fool of himself in front of Mrs. Kippen, replying to her 'Get home, safe!' with a 'Thanks, you too!' after she telling him that her son wasn’t home? He cringed at the thought; he cursed himself for being the most mortifyingly awkward human being alive. Of course TJ wasn’t home; it was silly for him to be otherwise hopeful. Yet his guileless light heart still dropped in disappointment when he realized that TJ was out with Kira, _again._ He bit his lip, staring out into his town. The lights of the city glow in the distance and the night sky is blotched with thick, grey clouds; the large, bright moon peeks out as they pass over its surface. The faint bustle of the cars making their way home doesn’t make him feel any less lonely. 

He wishes that he could talk to his Bubbe Rose. He misses how wildly she would laugh, mouth open wide to expose her teeth and the lines in her face artfully prominent. He misses the smell of her perfume, an aroma sweet and old like mossy cinnamon. But most of all, he misses her eyes, how they had the ability to look into his and remind him that he was there, and he mattered, and that everything would be okay. He is convinced that she was the only person that ever truly saw him.

His bubbe was the one who took him up on the roof the first time when he was seven years old, following his parent’s divorce and the great migration to the new house. She said ‘you had to break in a new house like a new pair of shoes’, and the best way to do so was to climb the roof and test out the view. She was also a firm believer in pushing yourself beyond your own self-proclaimed limitations, so when young Cyrus cried in fear of falling off the ledge that first time, she assured him that he could meet her at the top. Sure enough, he did. He didn’t think anyone had that much faith in him until TJ Kippen said 'Hey! Don’t tell him what he can’t do' in the middle of the crowded cafeteria. It might’ve been all over for Cyrus at that moment. 

Cyrus likes TJ. That much he can admit, at least to himself. Part of him wishes he could tell Bubbe Rose about it. She’d know what to say; she always knew what to say. He pulls his legs in closer, nibbling on the inside of his mouth. She’d probably tell him to just _talk_ to TJ, instead of playing this avoidance game. Which is what he planned to do earlier that evening, or at least, try to do, but the other boy hadn’t even been there to give him the chance. 

When did things get so bad between them? Was it his fault? He didn’t mean to push the boy so far away that he lost him in the process. It’s just that seeing TJ with Kira stung, a lot. Like a thousand times more than seeing Jonah kiss Andi, right in front of him, might he add. No, Costume Day had already been a knife to his heart and seeing them on the swings together twisted that knife and pushed it in deeper. 

Would he ever be sincerely happy for them? He hates himself for being so jealous. TJ deserves to be happy, and as much as Cyrus wants it to be with him, he could swallow down his own happiness for the sake of the other boy’s. Maybe, eventually he would get over it. Maybe he could live with being replaced.

A few stray tears rush down his cheeks, and he wipes them away harshly with the sleeve of his sweater. A considerable lump is growing at the back of his throat, and he looks up at the sky, blinking away tears and praying that the clouds would swallow him up and take him away. He is so caught up in keeping his choked sobs silent when a sharp _clank_ has him jumping out of his skin. He quickly wipes away at his face, slapping the skin of his eyes as if it will magically fix their redness before peering over the side of the ledge. 

There, where the sidewalk meets his front lawn, stands TJ Kippen, in the position to launch another pebble at Cyrus’ window. Cyrus’ jaw all but hits the chipped wood of the roof. He wonders for a moment if he had somehow managed to fall asleep up here when one of TJ’s pebbles strikes him on the side of his forehead. 

“Ow!” He groans in pain, checking to see if the hit drew any blood. Lucky, it hadn’t. 

From below, TJ’s head snaps towards the roof of the house and from where Cyrus was sitting, he can make out an expression he could only describe as bewilderment. 

“Cyrus?!” he whisper-screams. 

The brunette boy waved meekly at the blonde, an impish smile on his face, “Hi.”

“You’re on the roof?”

“Yeah, last time I checked,” says Cyrus. 

TJ lets out an amazed laugh before scoping out the front yard, “Wow, I’m impressed. You gotta ladder?” 

“Uh, no. Just come in through the front door and get up from the window. Don’t worry about my parents, they could sleep through a zombie apocalyp-- _What are you doing?!_ ” 

At some point during Cyrus’ tangent, TJ made quick work of climbing his rain pipe. Cyrus stomach flip flops at the sight of the boy ascending up his drain, his arms flexing and unflexing underneath his plain white t-shirt with the exertion. 

“That’s so dangerous!” Cyrus reprimands in a fierce whisper as TJ pulled himself onto the ledge beside his window. 

“Too late now.” TJ shrugs, the smallest of smirks lingering on his face as he walked towards the boy. 

Cyrus doesn’t realize how close the boy had gotten until he stood right in front of him, hands in his jean pockets. His heartbeat races as he registers TJ’s expression as nervous. 

“Is this seat taken?”

Cyrus pats the roof beside him. “All yours.” 

“Cool.” TJ says simply, sitting down beside the brunette with his legs crossed. The boys sit in silence for a moment, looking into the gray sky. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not as peacefully content as they once were. Cyrus’ heart clenches. 

“My mom told me you came by earlier,” TJ says suddenly, not meeting the other boy’s eyes with a slight frown, “Sorry I wasn’t there.”

Cyrus fiddles with the lace of his Converse, his voice small when he replies, “It’s okay, Teej.”

TJ turns to him, his frown softening at the nickname, one he hadn’t heard for sometime, “It’s not though, Cy. I didn’t realize it before today, but I really _have_ been spending a lot of time with Kira.” 

“ _No_ , you don’t say,” Cyrus bites back a smile. 

It seems that TJ is fighting back one as well. “I mean, she is cool and all, but even I get tired of talking about basketball. Over and over and over again.” By the end of sentence, TJ sounds exasperated, and Cyrus can’t help the giggle that escapes him. 

“Does that mean you got time for your old pal Cyrus now?”

TJ’s eyes dart to his face, pointedly looking into his eyes in a way that makes Cyrus’ throat go dry. TJ’s eyes have never looked so green, with the soft glow of the moon illuminating them in an almost unsettling way. His gaze is strong, but his voice is the softest it’s been the entire night. “I always have time for you.” He turns away at that before tacking on, “I’ve missed you.” 

Cyrus doesn’t know what he expected TJ to say, but that definitely wasn’t it. He blinks at his friend, his heart in his throat as he speaks, "I've missed you, too."

“Why do you sound so surprised?” TJ asks as another strong gust of wind rushes past them and into the trees. 

“I-I… I just thought-”

“Thought what?” TJ’s voice is bordering on the edge of vulnerable and guarded.

“I thought you finally got tired of me, like everyone else does.” Cyrus doesn’t meet TJ’s eye, his voice distant even to his own ears. 

“Hey, that’s not true!” TJ’s voice raises in volume, his tone full of hurt, and the brunette boy suddenly finds the cuticles of his fingers to be fascinating. 

“I can be a little” Cyrus pauses for a moment thoughtfully, “too much for people, sometimes. I still don’t understand why you wanted to be friends in the first place. It makes sense that you finally started to pull away.” 

A silence falls on them, one so thick and cold it burns the inside of Cyrus’ throat. Tears prick at the ducts of his eyes. The feeling is unbearable and the boy has half a mind to rush past TJ and hide under the covers of his bed until TJ’s gently speaks. 

“Cyrus, none of that is true. I should be the one wondering why _you’d_ wanna be friends with _me_. You’re amazing, more than you’ll ever give yourself enough credit for. All of your friends care so much about you; it’s kind of scary, honestly.” They both chuckle weakly at that. Then, TJ takes a breath, a conflicted look flashes on his face, “...You’re not just my friend. You’re my best friend, in fact. I’m sorry if lead you to believe anything other than that.” 

“Really?” Cyrus’ gazes at the boy with flushed cheeks, his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton as he speaks, “I’m your best friend?” 

“Well yeah,” TJ shrugs casually, but they way he fidgets suggests he’s feeling otherwise. “Of course, you are.”

“Oh. You're mine, too.” The smallest of smiles cracks on his face, until his next thought wipes it away. “I just thought that Kira-” 

“Enough about Kira.” TJ says exasperatedly, turning his whole body to face the other boy, before giving Cyrus’ shoulder a timid squeeze. “Listen, I’m kinda new to this whole 'friends' thing.” He looks down as he speaks, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I mess up. I’ll mess up again in the future. I’ve still got a lot of… _stuff_ to figure out, but I want you to know that no matter what, I’ll always be there for you. I promise, Underdog.” 

Cyrus feels warmth spread through his body, tingling from his cheeks all the way down to his toes. He can’t help the grin on his lips as he speaks, “Still the only person you can talk to like this?” 

TJ huffs a laugh, but his eyes are so incredibly soft it makes Cyrus’ stomach flip flop again. “Always.” 

They stare at each other in silence for a moment, a glazed smile on both of their faces, until Cyrus looks away and up towards the night sky. At that moment, he notices the clouds open up a little and right beside the moon is a bright star, shining more brilliantly than all the others. 

_Once Cyrus met his Bubbe at the peak of the roof, she wrapped him in her arms and placed him gently on her lap. They spent the next hour laughing about nothing while Bubbe Rose pointed out every constellation she knew, and young Cyrus committed all her words to memory. After a small moment of silence, she turned to the boy, pulling him closer to her. She was so warm, and Cyrus felt safe. He could feel himself drifting away to a state of sleep as she spoke._

_“If there’s ever a time when we’re apart and you’re thinking of me, just look up at the night sky. When the brightest star twinkles, know that is me speaking to you, my boy. Know that I am thinking of you, too.”_

_Cyrus felt her kiss the top of his head, and he fell asleep to the sound of her humming a lullaby._

A breeze wisps around him, bringing him back to the present. He looks at the night sky, his eyes glued to the shining star. Beside him TJ stirs, getting on his feet, but Cyrus doesn’t alter his gaze, waiting desperately for the star to flash with some sort of message. The other boy speaks, “We should probably go inside before one of us gets sick.” 

Cyrus nods wordlessly as TJ walks down the ledge and pulls up the window. Then, right when Cyrus is ready to give up and turn away, the brightest star flashes three times, and Cyrus’ heart flutters in his chest. He knows what it means.

“You coming, Underdog?” TJ questions, slight concern in his tone. 

“Yeah,” the boy answers breathlessly, standing up from the top of the roof and making his way towards the window. TJ goes in first, waiting to help his friend come in in case of an accident. Before Cyrus meets the hand outstretched towards him, he turns his head towards the sky, closing his eyes and whispering out, “I love you too, Bubbe.” The star glimmers, and Cyrus looks out with one last smile, his face beaming with brightness that matches the distant constellations. Then, he turns back to the boy waiting for him, taking the hand ready for his own. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚༓ ༓˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After a few minutes of joking around, TJ worries that his mother will notice his absence so the boys descend down the staircase together to say goodbye, Cyrus narrowly missing a step and falling flat on his face. They sneak out the front door through the living room with hushed laughter, careful not to wake up Cyrus’ snoring parents a few feet away. Once the boys are under the safety of the streetlamps across the front lawn, the brunette boy speaks up. 

“Thanks for coming around.” 

TJ smiles easily at him, “It was long overdue.” 

After a moment, Cyrus allows himself to look right at TJ, finally getting a good look at the boy he had been talking with that night now that they’re in relatively good lighting. TJ’s hair is impossibly fluffy without his usual gel cast, a few stray curls falling lazily over his forehead. It takes all of Cyrus’ willpower not to reach out and run his fingers through it. His eyes are soft as he peers down at the boy in front of him, a hopeful smile on his face illuminated by the soft yellow glow of the streetlamp. For once, the jealous pit in Cyrus stomach starts to close up. How could he be jealous of Kira knowing that _he_ was the first one to see TJ like this, looking so vulnerably beautiful. 

“I’ll see you on Monday?” TJ says, a little unsure of himself, but the smile on his face remains hopeful.

“Yeah, Monday.” 

A warm grin spreads on the brunette boy’s face, and TJ meets Cyrus’ with one of his own. The blonde is the first to look away, beginning the walk towards his own house. Cyrus watches him go, caught up with the thought of a happy future waiting for him, when TJ looks back, a considerable distance between them on the sidewalk. He waves sweetly at the boy, awakening the butterflies in Cyrus’ stomach. They share another round of smiles until TJ turns back, this time looking in the same direction until he disappears from Cyrus’ view. 

The brown-haired boy enters his own home, making his way up the staircase once more. Finally in the stillness of his dark bedroom, he leans his head against the doorframe, a smile he’s fighting back spreading across his face. The deafening silence from before now crackles and hums with energy, shooting a giddy feeling through Cyrus’ body until it circles his heart. The silence is peaceful. And then it’s warm. So very warm.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually pretty pleased with how this came out, especially because it started as a dumb drabble. This piece is named after "Enjoy the Silence" by Depeche Mode. I listened to the Eric Whitacre arrangement of it while I was writing this; the whole process was very therapeutic. Not sure if the lyrics are relevant with this story, though, but eh, I thought the name was fitting. Ah, three more episodes of Andi Mack are left! I can't even believe it. Anyway, as always, thank you for reading. Until next time!
> 
> Best,  
> Joy


End file.
